The Twelve Years of Frostmas
by SafyreSky
Summary: Nobody but he and I knew the truth. Jack wasn't supposed to be Santa; I wasn't supposed to be Jack Frost. He thought being Santa would fix everything-but he was horribly, horribly mistaken. [Major OC's. My take on Jack Frost as Santa during the Escape Clause]
1. Prologue

Have you ever been burdened by something so tremendous, so mindboggling huge with all these out of place things and—I already don't make sense, for frosts sake.

Okay. Let's start with an easier opening.

My name is Jacqueline Frost. My story—is long. Very long. It's like a soap opera, actually. Though it's been a few years since the soap opera concluded—on a happy note, to say the least. My family is close as can be, once more. The people of Crystal Springs respect myself and the other Legates, finally. And most importantly of all, I have my big brother back for good.

But see, that's just it.

My _brother_.

He's mostly the cause of the soap opera, to be honest.

I actually told him this the other day. Of course, being the self-absorbed stuck up snowdiva he is, he took it as a complete compliment.

No Jack. It wasn't intended that way, you—I'm getting off topic.

For a long time (like centuries long), Jack had completely cut ties with us; he left the family to go and gain more recognition and power. His ultimate goal: upstage Santa Claus.

You see, my brother, Jack Frost, was born with a frozen heart—cursed, as we learned a few years back. So he had a wee bit of an evil disposition. So much devastation and hurt was caused because of his jealousy and resentment—he had worked really hard to get himself a Legendary name and suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, jolly old St Nick is bringing joy to all the girls and boys on one of the most sacred days of the mortal year (well those mortals who celebrate Christmas. I'm not gonna get into mortal religions because the truth is, every religion is real for magical folk like myself—and often times the figureheads can be a bit of a pain. Zeus—need I say more? A lot of these 'Creators' tend to be a little bit on the sassy side if you ask me. Anyway, mortals, for some odd reason, don't seem to realize that every religion is true, though it's _super_ obvious, really). And where does that day fall? Wham bam smack center of winter—which, of course, is Jack's time of the year.

Now you can see why his ultimate goal was to upstage Santa—in his then cursed eyes, that fame and glory Santa had was meant to be his.

I know what you're thinking, now; Jack never succeeded though, Jacqueline…did he?

And the answer to that question is more complicated than you will ever know. But to put it simply: yes, he did succeed.

But nobody remembers. Nobody but Jack…and me.

For years, memories of the alternate timeline have bothered me like you wouldn't believe. It was just so…bad. This is why I'm writing this now. The same day I had the soap opera conversation with Jack, I brought up the other timeline with him. The conversation went a little like this…

"I'm not a diva," Jack had said, after my comment. "I like to keep people on their toes," he began, crossing one leg over the other, hands clasped around the knee.

I rolled my eyes, and shoving the book he was reading off the opposite chair, took a seat.

It was silent for a bit—comfortable though—before Jack (of course) broke it.

"I know you came here for another reason, you know…not just to accuse me of being a diva."

"I don't need to accuse, you already pleaded guilty."

He shrugged, grinning. "What can I say." He winked. I rolled my eyes. Again. At the rate I was going, eye roll wise, I was gonna turn into mom.

"Now come on. What's bothering you?"

"How'd you know I was coming to be serious?"

Jack didn't say anything. He just tapped his head knowingly.

"Oh. The connection. Snooper. And you say _I_ don't know what privacy is…"

"Come now, little flurry, out with it."

I sighed. "Do you remember the timeline when you were Santa?"

His face fell. I hadn't seen him this hurt and disturbed since I reunited with him up North however many years ago it was.

"How can I forget it?" he began. "If there is one thing that I will never forgive myself for, aside form leaving you, Jacqueline, it is what I did to everyone during those awful twelve years. All the trouble I put the elves through…the Legendaries…the people…mom…dad…and you, Jacqueline. Oh, gods. I will never allow myself to forget that timeline."

"I remember it still, too."

"Well, that's—that's pretty unfortunate."

"Yeah. For both of us."

"Yeah. I've looked, but there's no way we could possibly make ourselves forget it. Amnesia dust is never reliable for long term things."

"Midnight told me the same thing," I said, sighing. "I can't…I can't stop thinking about it, Jack. I can't sit here knowing it's just us who remember the timeline. I want to get it out of my head…"

"I think I see where this is going."

I blushed. "I just know writing it all out will help me. But what I wanted to know, was if—"

"It would help me. If I'd be okay with it," he finished for me.

I nodded. "I wouldn't publish it, or anything. I just want to write it down and then I think archive it," I supplied. I stared out the window, at the blooming backyard. "I just want it out of my head."

Jack looked thoughtful for a moment. It was kind of scary. I didn't reach out to read his thoughts because I didn't want to know what he was thinking right now. I know how much he regretted that timeline, and how bad it made him feel—especially since of all the people to remember it aside from him, it _had_ to be his little sister.

And this will sound totally self-centered but it's true—Jack's one big regret is how badly he treated me, and how much he hurt me. All of us, really—but for some odd reason, he tends to dwell on how his actions impacted me the most. (I've never asked him why…I don't think I want to know his reasoning. He gets really deep really randomly despite his debutante personality and self-centered tendencies).

Finally, he looked at me.

"I think it's a good idea," he said. Getting up, he went to his book case and pulled a small, brown book off the shelf. The bookcase moved, turning around into our secret library—moments later, he came out with a large, old tome.

"What's that?"

"I grabbed it from Old Frost Castle when I went to find dad the New Years Eve after the Deliquesce thing. Grandma Frost used it for really ancient warlock magic—before warlocks focused mostly on potion making."

I grabbed it from him, flipping through the stained pages. Spells, incantations and curses written in the ancient languages covered the pages—diagrams ranging from weird to downright terrifying accompanying some. Jack lifted a finger; with a twirl, the pages flipped at his command, opening on a specific set of pages. A diagram depicting a warlock writing was on one side. A trail of golden magic dust was painted onto the drawing—it stretched from his head, down his arm, and around the quill.

"This incantation allows the user to put all their memories on paper—and should they choose to, they can forget the whole thing once it's been written down."

I read through the ancient language—my ancient Greek and Latin translating was terrible, though I made sense of it.

"So if you want to, you can forget everything after you write it down. If you choose, when you re-read the piece, you can recall the memories. It wont get rid of them…it just kind of locks them up, you know?"

I blinked, staring at the faded pages.

"But what about you? You'll still remember everything," I said, sadly.

I heard him get up from the chair, his footsteps soft on the plush area rug. His finger under my chin, he tilted my face up, so I was looking right at his identical icy blue eyes.

"Don't get all mushy on me, Jacqueline," he said, the pad of his thumb wiping the tear from my eye. "I've lived with these memories for years, slushy. I've…come to terms with it. In a sense. I still feel tremendous amounts of regret and I know there's nothing I could do to make it up to you. There's no amount of snowball fights, trips to Gstaad, or victories at Elemental Ball that could ever, _ever_ make up for all the things I put you through. But I can deal with those memories with little things—seeing Mother smile, making sure Dad doesn't fall of the roof or slip into the lake again, help him with running the town…I can babysit the twins every so often, let them scorch me as much as they want, because it's all these little things that help me cope with what I've done."

I sniffled. I knew my face was turning red with the effort to not cry. (I'm such an emotional wreck whenever Jack gets all mushy on _me_—those random deep moments I mentioned before).

"Little things like this," he said, tapping the spell in the book, "are the things I can do for you, Jacquie, to help make up for everything I put you through."

He offered his hand to me, standing up. Closing the book and tucking it snugly under my arm, I took his hand and pulled myself off the couch.

"Write it down, Jacqueline. Write it down and use this spell, and then, once you archive it and forget it—to an extent—you can rest easier. _I_ can rest easier knowing you're not as hurt as before."

I wiped my eyes on the back of my long sleeve, sniffling again.

"Thank you, Jack," I said, leaning against his front, the book between us.

"You're welcome, Jacqueline," he replied, hugging me.

He let go, and, with a nod, I wound my way around the sleek leather couches in his sitting room and went to the door.

"Just one more thing, Jacqueline."

I turned back, and raised my eyebrow.

"Don't sugar coat my reign of terror," he said, hands in his pockets, his usual air of confidence returning.

"I wouldn't dream of it, frosty," I replied, running out of his room before he could call me out on the nick name usage. (He doesn't like to be called frosty, I don't like to be called slushy. He calls me slushy, though, and I get to call him frosty. _Then_ we're even.)

So now, reader, here we are. I'm in my room, a huge roll of magical parchment on my desk, my pen ready to write and the spell in place, to help me forget—if I choose so. And it was a _hard_ spell (our warlock blood is very thin). I've talked to a lot of people to get these snippets right, so…here goes everything, I guess.

Now here we go, back to the beginning of the time Jack became Santa.

Year one of what I like to call the Twelve Years of Frostmas.

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><p><strong>AN-I'm back! I'm gonna try to keep this AN short and sweet because my ANs back in CS were so long they added, in total, nearly 6,000 words (or more) to the full word count :)**

**So yes, this is planned out to be (not including this prologue which was originally part of the fi****rst chapter but it's almost past 5,000 words sooo yeah) 12 chapters, each one a synopsis of the year in the alternate timeline. This idea has been bouncing around in my head for a WHILE so here we go! My take on Jack's Reign as Santa...*dramatic music plays in the distance***

**The white box is right there for your essay/review/comments/thoughts/ideas/smiley faces/what have yous! **

**(AND AS A PS I've been SUPER BUSY so I've been terrible with reviewing and what not, but I will finally be less busy in like a week or so and will be back to my reviewing antics and what have ye)**

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><p><strong>DISCLAIMER<strong>

**I do not own _The Santa Clause_, nor do I own Jack Frost or any other canon characters mentioned above. I am making no profit off of this, it is purely for my enjoyment as well as that of the readers. I do, however, own Jacqueline Frost. Any resemblance she may bear to any specific person/place/thing is purely coincidental; please do not use her or any of my characters without MY permission. **The Legate concept is also mine; I do not mind anyone using it, so long as credit is given where credit is due.****


	2. Year One

**Year One**

Jack grinned, watching the current Santa's face fall as the coat—warm and snug—hugged _him_, Jack Frost—and the golden sparks surrounded _him_, teleporting him off to all of his dreams.

He laughed aloud as the snowy outdoors scene disappeared; he reappeared in Santa's sleigh—_his_ sleigh now, the moment it began to descend after the whole gift giving thing—_how convenient, _he thought. Briefly, a thought tickled the edges of his mind—why was he teleported to this point, specifically?

But as soon as the warmth from the workshop began to encompass him, it quickly left.

He grinned, watching from the sled; the elves scurried about, trying to sneak a peek at the new Santa. If he recalled correctly, this year the elves had planned to get rid of their current Santa—whether it was mutual between Bean-head and the old Santa or not, Jack wasn't sure.

Ah yes, Bean-head…

Jack grinned, watching the head elf approach the landing section and lean against one of the pillars. Bernard had yet to see the new Santa…and he looked _much _too confident.

_Time to have a little fun_, Jack thought.

"Hello down there, Bernie! How's it going?" Jack said, boisterously waving.

"Frost?" the elves around the sled froze, staring at one another—all thinking the same thought: _this wasn't the plan…_

"You there, little elf girl, fetch me that stool," Jack barked. A young auburn elf ran to the nearest step stool as fast as her little legs could carry her, placing it down in front of the frosty sprite.

"Thank you, thank you…Bernie, no need to act so surprised!"

"_Don't_ call me Bernie," the curly-haired elf snapped, awkwardly speed walking to Jack. "_What_ are you doing in the coat?"

"I'm Santa, what do you _think_ I'm doing in the coat?"

"You _know_ what I mean, Frost!"

"Now is that any way to treat your new boss?"

Bernard glared, his sparkling face slowly turning redder.

"Oh fine, I'll answer your question—as _idiotic_ as it is…"

The head elf huffed, stomping into the main hub of the workshop.

"You see," Jack said, following behind leisurely, "I was wandering around the streets of suburban Lakeside, Illinois, spreading my frosty cheer and what have you—"

"Oh, I'm _sure_…"

"—I'm going to ignore that comment—and as I'm wandering down one of my favourite streets, I see someone on the roof of a house! So naturally, I called up to him—startled him, and he fell. I was shocked and-and _appalled_ to see that as the man hit the ground, it was none other than Santa! Bernard, I was _devastated_."

"I'm sure you were so, _so_ upset."

"Truly! And then, he just disappeared! And left the coat in the snow! I didn't see anyone else claiming it and so, I put the jacket on," Jack said, nearly crashing into Bernard who had stopped right in his tracks.

"Don't give me that look, Bernie. It was for the greater good!"

"The greater good?"

"Yes."

Bernard huffed, marching through the main floor and out to the hallway.

"Slow down there, Bernard! I can't keep up with you elves…"

"Something about this is _not_ right," Bernard said.

Jack paled. "No, this is all just as it should be. Who better to be the next Santa than me? Why, I hail the season! It makes perfect sense."

"No, no it _doesn't_." he marched into Santa's Quarters, rummaging around the desk.

"What are you doing?"

"There are so many things wrong with this picture. Right here. This one," Bernard said, stopping his rummaging and framing his view of Jack with his index and thumb. A frosty sprite pouted, the red jacket five sizes too big and hanging off of his lanky frame.

"This isn't _right_. A Legendary can't take another Legendary Figure's place and I'm calling an emergency Council meeting _right this second_," he finished, finally finding a small bell in one of the drawers.

"Like that'll do _anything_," Jack scoffed, taking a seat and putting his feet up.

"The Council will know what to do," Bernard thought aloud, hoping that this wasn't happening, that this _couldn't_ happen, as he began ringing the bell.

* * *

><p>I woke up with a start that Christmas, gasping for breath.<p>

Something was _not_ right. Something was _very_ not right and I didn't know what it was.

I frowned, rolling out of bed and finding my dress. Changing, I tried to remember what happened in the past week…Mother Nature had given us bad Jack related news, as was usual. He had messed up the ecosystem everywhere, as per the norm. Instead of getting Winter's help, though, as she had originally intended, Grandmother recruited the twins and I as well, and had given us our MELTs early.

That night she had fixed our family—we all told her our deepest, darkest secrets and hidden feelings; and, like she does, she balanced us out and helped to mend the fraying blanket that was our family.

That was a good allegory. I think it was an allegory…or maybe a comparison. Metaphor? Whatever the case, it was brilliant, I thought, as I slid into the bathroom.

Freezing my hair, I tried to recall anything out of the ordinary—I had seen Elle and Bernard after the backyard barbecue we had, celebrating our successful MELTs and newfound dynamic. It took me a while to work up the courage to stop hiding and face my friend, but it had all worked out in the end.

So everything seemed pretty great right now, I thought, smoothing out the wrinkles in my long blue skirt, adjusting the icicle corset and straightening the illusion neckline. With a final poke of my poufy sleeves (gotta keep them extra poufy, you know) and shaking my arms a bit to straighten out the long wide sleeves they turned into, I headed downstairs.

I slid into the kitchen, still feeling off.

"Morning!" I said, taking my seat at the table.

"Good Morning," my mother said, averting her eyes.

That's when it hit me.

The family dynamic was totally screwed up.

It was as if all the work we had done, guided by Mother Nature, had flown out the window.

Mom's aura of sadness and fear was back, her face sad—as usual. Dad sat at the head of the table reading the newspaper, his fiery head a blaze. He glanced at his wife, sadness in the pits of his amber eyes.

The only thing not wrong was the twins—they were bouncing in their chairs, throwing sausages at each other and burning their bacon before shoveling it down their mouths.

"What's wrong with everyone?" I asked, confused.

My dad raised an eyebrow, staring at me.

"What do you mean, Jacqueline?"

I frowned. I glanced at the calendar on the icebox, and gasped—1994?—I rubbed my eyes, staring at the calendar again.

"What in the name of winter?"

"Don't use your mother's name in vain," my dad said, staring at me—slightly concerned.

"Sorry. Is it—is that the right year?" I asked pointing at the calendar.

"Duh," Fiera said, her hair searing a tater tot Fino threw her way.

"It's been 1994 like all year," Fino added.

"That's…no, that's not right! It was literally just 2006 yesterday!"

"No it wasn't," Fino said.

"Yes, it was! Didn't Mother Nature swing by a few days ago? And we got our MELTs early, we had to fix some unbalanced weather for Grandmother and—"

"The past few days have been just like every other week," Blaise said, his newspaper now folded on the table. Concern danced about his features, his eyes fixed on my extremely confused face.

"That sounds like a crazy dream."

"It wasn't a dream and it _wasn't_ just like every other week! It happened, Fiera! It snowed in the Amazon and I had to move it, and then you and Fino had to unfreeze a volcano—"

"I changed my mind, that sounds like THE COOLEST DREAM EVER," Fiera shouted.

"I wonder how we would unfreeze a volcano," Fino pondered.

"Okay, wait, wait, _wait,_" I insisted. "Mother Nature didn't visit us?"

"No," Mom mumbled, her back still towards me—though she had stopped what she was doing at the counter, her face whiter than snow. "Not since three months ago."

"Okay, what about Bernard? Did he and Elle stop by?"

"Who's Elle?" Fiera asked.

_"What do you mean who's Elle?!"_ I shouted, standing up from my chair. I was so confused—something wasn't right, we had travelled back in time and nothing I remember happening for the past two weeks had happened and why did nobody _understand_—

"Jacqueline, are you okay?" My mom cut me off, staring at me—fearfully.

"I'm…fine…I need to go visit Grandmother," I said, and with that, I ran out of the kitchen and to the front hall.

"Jacqueline, wait!" Dad shouted.

"Are you gonna finish your sausage!?" Fiera shouted.

"It's all yours, hothead. I'll be back later!"

I needed to talk to someone who knew what was happening and since getting to the Timeless Realm was nigh impossible without the assistance of the Time Keepers, Mother Nature's Garden would have to do.

As soon as I stepped out onto the veranda, I thought of the Quartz Forest, the pink magical doorway to Mother Nature's Garden, visualizing the place, and teleported out of Frost Mansion in a flurry of snowflakes and blue sparks.

I needed answers.

* * *

><p>I reappeared directly in front of the portal. As soon as I felt all my particles return to me, I stepped through the swirling pink depths. Briefly I was engulfed by a spiraling vortex before I found myself inside the vast garden Mother Nature called home.<p>

The entrance was between two large hornbeam trees. On this side of the Garden, you couldn't see the pink vortex. You walked through the arch the two trees formed and suddenly, it's Quartz Forest. I was surrounded by a canopy of leafy green, a small stream of water trickling by, sparkling in the bits of sunlight that broke through the leafy barrier.

"Mother Nature!" I shouted, out into the vast expanses of the garden. "Grandmother!"

I hopped over the stream, making my way into another one of her many gardens—lilacs surrounded me, a stone pathway leading to several portions of the garden.

"Okay, _focus_ Jacqueline," I said aloud. If anything, Mother Nature would probably be in her kitchen, or on the patio having tea to the side of the kitchen. Taking the chance, I took the path between the middle and far left, and ran, calling for my grandmother.

"Jacqueline, sweetheart, whatever is the matter?" She said. I almost slammed into her—she had met me halfway on the path to her greenhouse. She held my shoulders gently, her green eyes eyeing me carefully.

"Something is wrong something is _very_ wrong everything is of kilter and I think I'm going insane—"

"Calm down dear!" She said, her dark face concerned. "Something is wrong and you are quite correct," she said.

"Oh thank gods, you know that the year is wrong and stuff?"

"Good heavens, what are you talking about? There's nothing off with the time stream. The North Pole is in chaos. Well, not exactly…but things aren't quite right."

I paled. Anything wrong up North usually, about half the time, had to do with my brother.

"Did Jack muck up Christmas?"

"I'm afraid it is far worse," Mother Nature said. "Jack has become the next Santa."

I gasped. "That can't be right! He's not supposed to be Santa!"

"Exactly," Mother Nature said, steering me towards her patio. Sure enough, tea was out on the small table, papers strewn about.

I didn't think she understood exactly what I was saying—Jack wasn't Santa. The current Santa's name—before being Santa—was Scott, or something along those lines. But rather than plead my case (I'm sure my family already thought I was going insane, I didn't need to add Grandmother to the mix), I decided to follow her, and get more information before deciding what to do next.

"Bernard called an emergency council meeting the moment Jack arrived in the coat. I've been reading over the clause all day, immersed myself into the Santa Handbook, the Code…but it looks like there's no way to break the contract without…you know…"

"The accident or design thing. Right."

Mother Nature sighed, plopping down into her chair. "I fear Father Time was right. Jack will be Santa—there's no way out. Unfortunately, that leaves us without a Jack Frost."

She looked up at me, conflicted.

"Jacqueline, you need to come back to the reconvening with me. Since Jack must be Santa...the Legate Law must be acted upon."

I paled. I was shocked, stunned even—this was something I never thought would happen to me; not in my eighteen hundred and ninety five—or rather, eighty three, what with this weird time lapse thing that was happening with me right now—years of life.

"It is the Law," she said, wisely.

"I know," I replied. "Every immortal that has acquired a Mythical or Legendary status must have a second in command, a Legate, to step in should anything happen to the Legend in question."

I knew the law word for word—growing up, being a Legate was a huge part of my identity (it still is, even to the present day I'm writing this in). It was branded into my brain.

Grandmother nodded. "Since Jack Frost is now Santa…well, you know what we must do. Come along now, Jacqueline; the reconvening is about to start."

Gently holding my shoulder, Mother Nature closed her eyes and engulfing us in a bright light, teleported to the North Pole.

* * *

><p>"I now call this session of the Council reconvened," Mother Nature said, smacking the gavel.<p>

"Good," Bernard said.

"Great," Jack said, grinning. "So Mother N, how'd your search go, hmm? Find your loophole?"

"Unfortunately," Mother Nature said, "There is nothing in the books that say this can't be happening. Jack is very much Santa now."

A collective groan rang out from the Council; Bernard smacked his head against the table. In fact, the only happy person was Jack, who childishly whooped, fist pumping. I sighed heavily from my spot in the background (a bunch of snow on the windowsill, specifically).

"However," Mother Nature began. "This does not excuse Jack from any of his past actions. He will be expected to uphold every value, every tradition that every Santa has held, from Kris Kringle and St Nicholas' first Clause to this past Santa who is no longer with us."

"Oh, I will Mother Nature, I swear it!" Jack said, earnestly.

"Mother Nature, there's gotta be something you can do, anything—"

"Unfortunately Bernard, there isn't. Jack will be expected to pick up his Santa duties this November. He will, however, have to listen and report to you, Bernard."

"What? But he's not Santa—"

"No, he is not. But he has centuries more experience than you do, Jack. And he will be our liaison. He'll report to us if you so much as step one toe out of line."

"Alright, alright. Chill. I'll behave, I'll be a great Santa and take care of my usual responsibilities, of course."

"No you won't."

"What?"

"You won't be Jack Frost anymore," Father Time said.

"What do you mean? It's my _name!_ I _am _Jack Frost. _And_ Santa."

Time sighed, sharing a look with Mother Nature.

"You cannot be two Legendary Figures at once, Jack."

Understanding dawned on Jack's face.

"Wait, so now that I'm Santa…I can't be Jack Frost? As in, the myth?"

"Nope," Sandy said.

"Not at all," Cupid added.

"Can't do both," Tooth said.

"At all?"

"At all," Bunny finished, having felt left out.

"But I made those myths!"

"These were your choices, Frost. Become Santa and forfeit your legacy for his, it's plain and simple," Bernard said.

"But then—who will take care of the snow? The frost the-the ice, the whole _season_—?"

"Not like you did a good job of it in the first place," Bunny mumbled.

Jack hissed.

"Why, Jack Frost. The next Jack Frost," Mother Nature said.

"What?"

"We enact the Legate Law, duh."

"Thank you Cupid," Mother Nature said.

"Wait, so you mean that Jacqueline—"

"Do you have a problem with that, brother?" I snapped, materializing behind him.

It was almost worth it to see the look of surprise and utter shock on his face, as well as the barely disguised laughs from the more immature council members—and the huge grin on Bernard's face.

"I…I…Jacqueline?"

"Who'd you expect, Frosty the Snowman?"

"I…"

He was positively speechless and it was great. I grinned impishly, sitting down in his seat.

"That's my seat," he said, still bewildered. Thank the gods I had had some time to check myself before I materialized. Otherwise, I'd probably be just as bumbling as he was at that moment.

"Not anymore," I replied.

"She's right," Cupid said.

"Shut up," Jack said.

"Thanks, Cupid," I grinned.

"Alright, enough," Mother Nature said, half heartedly. "Faced with the situation at hand, we have come to the only conclusion possible, Jack Frost, you will be the next Santa Claus. Jacqueline, you will be the next Jack Frost. Normally I'd ask all in favour and all opposed, but I am well aware of the feelings of the council and unfortunately, we have no choice in the matter. So, regrettably…motion carried and meeting adjourned," she finished.

And with a final smack of the gavel, our fates were sealed.

Jack was Santa.

And I was Jack Frost.

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><p><strong>AN- Sorry this is like a day (two now! I've been a busy body orz) late! Yesterday was busy busy BUSY. But, yeah, here's the next chapter! I hope the perspective makes sense-it's Jacqueline writing it, but some portions will be in third person POV and I hope they fit nicely and flow well-technically, Jacquie is still telling them, just not from her perspective cause she wasn't there ;)**

**First Year is a little slow, but Year Two we'll see the first straw, as it were, that leads to the way things are in TSC3. Now for your usually scheduled disclaimer and reviewing box! *blows kisses at all of you***

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><p><strong>DISCLAIMER<strong>

**I do not own _The Santa Clause_, nor do I own Jack Frost, Mother Nature, or any other canon characters mentioned above. I am making no profit off of this, it is purely for my enjoyment as well as that of the readers. I do, however, own Jacqueline Frost, as well as her family (Blaise, winter, Fino and Fiera Frost) as well as their magical hometown of Crystal Springs. Any resemblance they may bear to any specific person/place/thing is purely coincidental; please do not use any of my characters without MY permission. **The Legate concept is also mine; I do not mind anyone using it, so long as credit is given where credit is due.****

**I also do not own Elle. She belongs to Ana, aka etiquette-faux-pas. I am merely borrowing Ms Connelly and have vowed to return her (relatively) unharmed.**


	3. Year Two

**Year Two**

The rest of the year, after that fateful evening, passed relatively uneventfully. Well, if you could call it that. Jack's transformation was tame—though he was not amused with his rapid weight gain and made it clear throughout the Pole. He surprised everyone really—he did as he was told and he went out in the sleigh the night of and delivered the gifts.

As for me, I traveled the world, doing my new found duties. I've been living in Crystal Springs for nearly three centuries—seeing how different everything was in the span of some three hundred years was mind boggling, but a lot of fun.

Unluckily for me, I had to report back to the Pole quite frequently because of the magical icy walls. I'm sure, reader, you've heard about the Deliquesce—the melting of the magical ice dome surrounding Elfsburg and the Workshop. Should it happen, all magic, all of humanity as we know it would cease to exist. Jack is the current possessor of the winter magic that keeps the dome solid—when he became Santa, he passed that power down to me.

Unfortunately, that meant frequent trips up North to see my brother.

Which I suppose in a way was strike one for him.

And for me as well.

* * *

><p>"This list thing is so much work," Curtis said, reading the list for Santa.<p>

"That's why I'm making you do it," Jack said, standing in front of a mirror, two elves measuring his waste.

"Finally, the W's," Curtis mumbled. With a heavy sigh, he read the list out loud, Jack telling him if the child was good or bad.

"You're down by two more inches, sir," one of the tailor elves said, frowning.

"Excellent," Jack said gleefully.

"But sir—"

"Are you _questioning_ me?" Jack snapped, the other outspoken tailor elf gulping.

"N-no, sir."

"That's what I thought."

"What is going on in here?"

"Ah! Bernie! Nice of you to drop in. How's it going?"

"_Don't_ call me Bernie."

"Bernie, please. Where are your manners?"

The curly haired elf huffed. "_Please_ don't call me Bernie," he said, teeth clenched.

"Much better, bean-head. Now, what can I do for you?" He asked, the tailor elves pinning the suit around Jack, taking note of the adjustments needing to be made.

"You should be checking the list," Bernard said.

"I am," Jack replied.

"No you're not! Curtis is doing it!"

"We have a system, Bernard."

The elf stared.

"Curtis, why don't you explain it to your boss here."

"Uh…y-yes sir. Right. Um, well, I…uh…"

"Oh, forget it, I'll do it," Jack snapped. Waving off the elves, who stood by either said of the mirror dutifully, he turned to face the head elf.

"You see, checking the list was getting a little bit tedious," he began, walking towards the desk and picking up the long scroll. "All these names, all these markings…way too much work, if you ask me. Naturally, I decided to take a break—and found this elf down in R and D being a suck up. So, I asked him to help me out and voila, here we are. He reads the names, I say "naughty" or "nice", he marks it down, and bam-wham job done easily."

"On your part," Curtis mumbled under his breath, deeply regretting his earlier want to get closer to the boss man.

"Pardon me?"

"Nothing, nothing…"

"That's what I thought," Jack said, turning back to the mirror and snapping his fingers, arms out. Instantly, the two elves finished pinning the red coat. Carefully, they slid it off and brought it out the door, pants included.

"Now, what can I do for you Bernard."

"You were wanted on the floor two _hours ago_," he snapped. "We're having issues with the Santa's-In-A-Box."

"Then fix them."

Bernard nearly slammed his head on the wall.

"What?"

"We _can't_ fix them. We've been trying _all day!_ Now R and D is short staffed and the queue of toys is already behind by three days!"

"Bernard, Bernard, Bernard, Ber-NARD. You really need to unwind. Chillax, elf. Besides, I can't help you now! I have company," Jack said.

"Curtis, get out," Bernard snapped, the elf scurrying away gleefully. "Now you don't."

"That wasn't my company," Jack snapped. "Now I have to do the list myself, _thanks_ Bernard."

"You do realize that's how it's supposed to be done, right? By Santa? Not an overly-enthusiastic elf?"

"Ah! Jacqueline! Lovely to see you!" Jack said, ignoring her comment, as per the norm. "What brings you here to see little old me?"

Jacqueline sighed, unamused. She fisted her hands deeper into the pocket of her long light blue hoodie, her white leggings sodden from the stubborn walls.

"Your stupid walls," Jacqueline said.

"I agree, I'm not fond of the colours—too _red_ if you ask me."

"Not _those_ walls you lava brain! Those walls," she snapped, pointing out the window at the colourful glacier dome.

"Oh," Jack said, sulky. Whenever Jacqueline brought up her winter time duties—Jack's old ones—he got a little bit…_nippy_.

"I have no idea how you handle this one, Bernard."

"That makes two of us. Sticking around Jacqueline?" Bernard asked. "I can get Judy to prepare your room."

"No, I just came to be polite," she said, looking down at her soft blue leather boots.

"Nonsense, Jacqueline!" Jack said, waltzing over to his sister. Grabbing her shoulders and turning around, he began to walk her out into the hallway leading to his personal quarters. She raised an icy eyebrow at him, her curly white ponytail caught under his arm.

"I really rather—"

"Oh, hush now, sister. Stick around! Stay the night! I've been meaning to talk to you, anyway. Seeing as how we are siblings and you are the current Jack Frost," he said, icily, "I've been thinking…"

"That could be dangerous."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying."

"Very rude, Jacqueline. No matter. Anywho, stay for dinner. We can have a nice lovely chat—I've been thinking of our new proximity, what with our new jobs, and I think we should really try to make amends."

"Ex_cuse me?_"

"You heard me! I'm glad we're on the same page, _phew._ Really takes a lot off my mind." He stopped in front of a light blue door, turning her towards it.

"Off _your_ mind?!"

"I shall see you at six!" he said, making his way down the hall and disappearing.

* * *

><p>"Who does he <em>think<em> he is!?" I shouted to nobody a few minutes later, angrily atoning my room to my more icy taste in décor. (Jack's furniture preference is _much_ too dark).

"Make amends?! Pretend everything is okay?! As if!" I growled, blasting the bookshelf and turning it from sleek black wood to icy white. A blast here, a blast there, and suddenly it was almost homey. Almost. I could feel the repressed anger I've boiled with over the year slowly simmer, right to the top. I shouldn't have bottled it all up, really—it made for a very long, cold winter for northern Canada—but I didn't want to take it out on Jack. Not up North, around all the elves.

But now, oh ho HO. Now, I was very much considering spilling the beans to Jack.

Ah yes, the beans. I see I've failed to mention what I've learnt.

You see, dear reader, between spreading snowy weather across the world and attending council meetings (dreadfully boring, the _lot_ of them), I've been piecing together a few things. Specifically, what it was about Jack being Santa that wasn't right.

It took a lot of research and a lot of scrap paper, but I figured it out. Somehow, twelve years into the future, Jack tricked the proper Santa, Scott, into giving up his position. Whatever trick he used, it meddled with the timeline and allowed him to go right back to that specific point where Scott became Santa, and take his place.

This is why nobody remembered. As for why I remembered, I assumed it had to do with our very strong link—the Legate bond.

I sat down for a minute, breathing in. And out…and in.

He wants to make amends _now_. After leaving the family, leaving _me_ for fourteen hundred years, emotionally damaging mom, stabbing me right through the stomach several times—_literally_—and leaving Crystal Springs in chaos all those years ago, he wants to make amends.

"He has no idea what he's dealing with."

"Yeah, you're telling me," Bernard said, entering my room.

"Is knocking like a foreign idea here in Elfsburg?" I snapped.

"Sorry. I…I heard you storming around as I was passing through and thought maybe you wanted to talk…or something."

I raised an eyebrow. Bernard had good intentions, really. He was just really bad at talking about feelings. Like, _really_ bad.

"Thanks," I say, burrowing deeper into my sweater. Bernard wasn't the only one bad at talking about moods. I have two extremes—angrily taking out my feelings on people or moping about, very hesitant to talk about them. He settled himself into the other arm chair, sitting rigidly.

It was silent for a bit, before I piped up.

"It just…it makes me so _angry_," I said, fury in my voice, "that now, after all these years, not a single peep or squabble from him…that _now_ he wants to "make amends"," I say, air quotes and all.

"He does have a really bad rep sheet with you and your family."

"You're not kidding. Mom froze her heart for the _third time in her life_ because of him. Dad is always concerned about mom…nothing makes her smile. They haven't even told our younger twin siblings about Jack."

I huffed. More silence.

"Right now this isn't about your family, Jacqueline. I mean in a way it is, but not totally…what I mean is this specific conflict right here has to do with you and Jack. What I'm trying to say is…" Bernard hesitated, searching for words.

"You're asking me how _I_ feel. Like right now. Specifically me versus Jack."

A sigh of relief. "Yeah."

I frowned, thoughtful. I couldn't tell Bernard about what had happened with the family and Momma Nature—because it hadn't happened yet. All the progress we made in our family, all the healing, totally gone now.

Even though I felt like everything was half-fixed because I remembered that evening with Mother Nature happening, it wasn't.

So mom was sad. Dad was concerned. The Twins were clueless.

And how did I feel?

Well, if that night hadn't happened, I'd still feel…responsible. Responsible for what Jack did and continued to do. Hurt by it, too. Hurt by mom because I felt like she was afraid of me. Heck, I was afraid of me.

Was I still afraid of me?

I stared at my pale hands.

Yeah. I was afraid of me.

"I feel afraid. I'm afraid of what's gonna happen. Of what I can do now…but even more than that, I'm _angry_," I realized, "because—and I know this'll sound totally crazy Bernard but just bear with me here—when Jack did whatever he did to become Santa, he messed with time and we were fine, the family was fine we were fixed and Jack, of _course_ frosted it up."

I let out a loud ugh and slumped in my seat.

"Well I don't think you're crazy," Bernard pointed out.

"You don't?"

"Nope."

That was a relief.

"Why not?"

"Because I know Jack wasn't supposed to be Santa. But his predecessor didn't leave us a name for the next one. He chose the next one and he knew what would happen; all we knew is that a new Santa would be arriving in the sleigh that Christmas Day."

"Ha, you rhymed!"

"Seriously?"

"Sorry, just trying to look on some form of bright side."

"I getchya. At any rate, Jack's not doing too badly of a job. His first official night out was pretty flawless, which surprised us all. Especially since it was Jack—no offense."

"None taken."

"He's even actually trying to learn how things work around here—the only problem is, he thinks it's too much work, and finds shortcuts."

"Which is why Curtis was reading the list out to Jack."

"Exactly. And that's not the first one—he pre-ordered some parts, instead of having us make them, and aside from the huge risk to the SOS that poses, the parts are pretty poor quality. Now we're having issues like you wouldn't _believe_ with all the toys using these parts and we're behind by a few days, give or take."

"You seem unnaturally calm, despite being so behind."

"I'm freaking out on the inside," he said, his voice cracking a bit. I laughed.

"You'll find a way around it and catch up, Bernard. You always do."

"Thanks. And you'll manage to figure out what to do at tonight's dinner with your brother. You're a very determined sprite."

"Ha ha. Thanks," I said, dryly, a smile ghosting my face. "What are we now, each other's therapists?"

"Apparently," Bernard said, shrugging.

"Oh dear."

"I'm not that bad with feelings! The advice I just gave you was pretty great in my opinion."

"Let's face it, Bernard, we're both terrible therapists."

"Agreed."

It was silent for a bit longer, before Bernard broke it.

"The shortcut thing just bothers me so much! You can't just take shortcuts in this job! That's not how Santa works!"

I groaned. "What if he finds a shortcut for tonight?"

"Let's hope not. His shortcuts have been backfiring _repeatedly_ for the past _year_!"

The sound of a clock chiming out in Elfsburg rang through the window. It tolled six times; I groaned again.

"Good luck, Jacqueline," Bernard said.

"Thanks. I'm gonna need it."

"Hey, if you need anything…I'll be around."

I nodded. "Thanks B-man."

"Don't…don't mention it."

And with that, I left my room and made my way to the fancy dining room.

* * *

><p>On the bright side, it smelt delicious. I swear, every single one of my favourite foods was lain out on that table and it looked heavenly.<p>

The downside? Jack, of course.

I sat on one end of the long table, Jack on the other. He stood as I entered and took my seat, always concerned with his manners. As I sat down and waited for him to break the silence (gods only knew what would happen if I made the first move), I really took in his appearance.

Jack made a really bad looking Santa. Like, really bad.

His skin was still its normal freakishly pale colour, nearly blue, his eyebrows and hair frozen. What made him look so downright creepy was his _beard_—it was _also_ frozen and it made him look like some creepy frozen zombie Santa to be totally honest. Instead of the nearly ugly Christmas sweaters I remembered the real Santa preferring to wear, Jack was formal as always—just with a more Santa-tone to the ensemble.

I'm sure he was taking in my appearance, too. I had contemplated changing into my customary frozen blue dress, but decided against it. I came to the Pole on duty, I was gonna stay in my on duty clothes—just to remind myself that this visit wasn't permanent. I was just dropping in, fixing the walls, saying hello, then off to Australia for a flurry. Nothing permanent. I braced myself for an offhand comment about my attire.

"You could have cleaned up for dinner."

Whoop, there it is.

"My leggings dried and I brushed my hair, clean enough for me."

Jack stared, shrugging and helping himself to the food. I took it as my cue to fill my plate as well.

For a while, there was silence. Nothing but the scraping of cutlery against plates and the elves moving and serving the food, as well as replenishing our drinks. I stared at Jack, the anger inside of me growing slowly…and opened my mouth.

Probably one of the worst decisions of my life.

"How did you do it?" I demanded.

"Hmm?" he said, mouth full of food.

"How did you become Santa. You're not supposed to be Santa and you _know_ it."

"Jacqueline, please. It was just luck," he said, smiling…no, it was more of a smirk. Like he knew something I didn't know.

"Really?"

"Of course. I found the jacket, abandoned, and put it on. Nobody else was coming to claim it so I did the world a favour."

"A favour?!"

"Uh, yeah. Without me, we'd be Santa-less! And where would all the good little boys and girls be, hmm?"

I hissed.

"Woah, _feisty_. Now, let's talk about what I originally proposed, hmm?"

"Oh yeah. Your _making amends_ thing."

"_Our_ making amends. You know, I've been doing a-a lot of thinking this year. Bringing in some changes, reflecting on my new life…I've finally become Santa. I'm finally recognized around the world, Jacqueline, and I want you to be a part of this new chapter of my life with me."

"Uh-huh. Right."

"Truly! This is going to make everything better," Jack said.

"Everything _better?!_" I snapped, standing up from my chair, my cutlery flying. "Everything was better eleven years into the future until you screwed it up with your timeline messing around! We were fixed, the family was happy again! And then I woke up and suddenly it's nineteen ninety four AGAIN and not two thousand and six and mom won't look at me, her and dad fear me and nothing is the way it was supposed to be!"

"How much do you know," Jack said, menacingly, standing up from his chair. Unconsciously, I shifted into a defensive pose, my hands gripping the table.

"What do you think I know?"

"I think you know something I think only I know but you must know about since you're talking about the future…"

I clenched the table harder, my knuckles turning whiter. My eye twitched; the temperature in the room dropped a tad.

"Well then, that something you think only you know and nobody else knows is actually known by someone else in this very room…"

Now Jack hissed. "That can't be right…the clause…"

"So it's a clause!"

"Ha! You don't know!"

"Oh I do know," I said, tendrils of frost creeping out of my palms, slowly freezing the table. "I know that you are not supposed to be Santa. I don't know how you did it, but I know you did…and now you've helped me narrow down the search a bit more!"

"So what are you gonna do about it, hmm? Stop me? Jacqueline, why can't you see how much better everything is now? I'm Santa, me, Jack Frost! I have the coke cans and the postage stamps and the songs and the adoration and fame…"

"How does that make _anything_ better?!"

"I've reclaimed winter!"

"There never was anything to reclaim!"

My arms swung forwards, two accidental icy blasts creating a trail of ice across the table, icicles sprouting up from the frozen track, just missing Jack's face. Gasping, I thrust my hands back into my pockets, still in a defensive pose. I blanched—I had just initiated a hand-to-hand fight with my all-powerful brother…I was just short of doomed.

"Well, well, _well_. It looks like _someone_ is having a wee bit of power control," he said, lifting his arms and opening his palms, he thrust forward—but nothing happened.

"Wait…what? Where's my frost?!" wild hand motion after wild hand motion, Jack tried to create any bit of snow or ice—only to fail epically.

"Well, well, _well_…it looks like someone doesn't even _have_ their powers!" I shouted.

"This…this can't be…I'm Jack Frost."

"No. _I'm_ Jack Frost now," I said, shocked at the maliciousness in my voice. "And you can forget about your making amends crap, _Santa_," I hissed. "It's not gonna happen. It's _never_ going to happen! You ruined everything with your stupid ideals! And I swear to every power that be, I will make you_regret_ the day you put on that coat. Just you wait!"

And with that, I turned on my heel and burst through the door, leaving a trail of snowflakes and blue sparks in my wake.

* * *

><p>"What happened here?" Bernard said moments later, appearing in the dinning room.<p>

A jagged trail of icicles lined the long table, two large icicles protruding at the end of the table, almost directly in Jack's seat. The table itself, legs and floor and chairs, all had a thin layer of frost coating them; the temperature in the room was much colder than should be, and a befuddled Jack stood at the end of the table, slack jawed with surprise in his eyes.

"Santa?"

"I can't frost," he whispered.

"What?"

"I _can't frost!_"

It took all of Bernard's willpower to not crack his serious façade and smile the biggest smile possible at this news.

"I guess it didn't go well?" he asked.

"She rebuked my attempts at a reconciliation! She accused me and…and…I can't frost!"

Angrily, Jack turned on Bernard. "Your sassy comments are not appreciated, Bernard. Get back to work, everyone! Every elf in this Pole better be doing something useful!"

"But sir, only three quarters of the force works this early into the year."

"Not anymore," Jack growled, stomping out of the room. "I want every not-working elf working on a solution to my frosty problem!"

"Don't you mean lack of a frosty problem?"

"Shut up!" Jack yelled. "Instead of insulting your boss, do me a favour and get to work!"

And with that, leaving Bernard slightly shocked (Santa hadn't yet raised his voice once), Jack left the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

><p>From what Bernard told me, after that huge fight between Jack and I, Santa Jack gave the North Pole a living hell for nearly a month. On the one hand, I felt bad; the elves, Bernard, they didn't deserve a straight month of a wounded Jack taking out his anger on them. But on the other hand, I felt great; I got to tell off my brother and it felt <em>good<em>.

But not good _enough_.

If there was one thing that I wanted after that dinner, more than anything, it was someone to take me seriously. To reaffirm my thoughts, to tell me, "hey, Jacqueline, you're not crazy! Jack really isn't supposed to be Santa! No worries, you're not going bonkers!"

So in the heat of the moment I teleported to the Quartz Forest in search of my grandmother.

When I finally found her in her forest office reading over some papers, I went off on a tangent.

"Grandmother, I am at my wits end!"

"Jacqueline, please, calm down…you're freezing the grass!"

I growled, pacing back and forth.

"What's happened?" She asked me, putting the papers aside and giving me her full attention.

"I was up North—"

"Oh no. What did he do now?"

"He wanted to _make amends_. He wanted me to just forgive him for everything he's ever done and join him at the Pole. He seriously believes that becoming Santa was the answer to everything!"

"And how did you reply to that?"

"I snapped on him, Mother Nature. I also accidentally froze his dinning room. I just couldn't believe—ugh!"

I was so angry I couldn't even phrase my thoughts properly. So instead, I plopped down on the heavy carved-out seat across form her wooden tree desk and simmered quietly, trying to calm down.

"Just breathe, Jacqueline. What else happened?"

Grandmother's voice was very soothing, I'll admit. So, listening to her calming words I told her about what happened at dinner.

"So then I opened my big mouth and asked him how he became Santa because we all know he shouldn't be Santa! And he confirmed my thoughts, Mother Nature! He confirmed that he did something to go back in time and reset everything so he was Santa!"

"Are you absolutely sure, Jacqueline?"

"Yes! He said something about a Clause and I _know_ that someone's gotta believe me now—"

"Sweetheart, calm down. Just, be silent for a moment, okay?"

I stared at her, my mouth open in a small 'o'. Grandmother rang a bell, a small earth faerie appearing with a cup of tea.

"Here, darling. Drink this. Calming jasmine tea," she said, the faerie giving me the cup. Numbly, I took it, the steam wafting up, warming up my cold cheeks. I sipped the warm beverage, calming down almost instantly—and very confused. I thought for sure that Grandmother believed me now, but for all intents and purposes…it was as if she barely heard a word I had just said.

I muttered a thanks, waiting for Mother Nature's next words.

"While your suspicions are…reasonable, we have no proof that what you claim is true, Jacqueline. Unfortunately, your brother _is_ Santa. How he became Santa, whatever means he used, is unknown and probably never will be known. All we have is Jack's fragmented story and your claims against him. And unfortunately, we cannot do anything with just that. We would need more evidence."

I gaped, open mouthed. "But…a clause, and the timeline, and the—"

Mother Nature walked around the table, gently squeezing my shoulder. "I know it's hard to wrap your mind around, and I know that all these newfound responsibilities are taking their toll on you, Jacqueline. You're doing a wonderful job; but perhaps you're a tad bit…stressed."

"So you think I'm sprouting these accusations against Jack because I'm _stressed?!_"

"Not _exactly,_" she said, searching for her words carefully. "I just—"

"Ugh, Grandmother, _please_. Just don't even bother! You literally just said that!"

"Not entirely—"

"There you go _again!_ I can't believe this!" I shot up, slamming my teacup down on the table.

"Jacqueline, wait!"

"Forget it, grandmother! Just for_get it!_ I'm out of here!"

And with that, I flew out of the Garden and into the Forest, throwing myself into the wind and up in the clouds and far, far_away_ from Mother Nature and Jack and the whole mess that currently was my life.

* * *

><p><strong>AN It's 4:30AM. I'm not tired at all. I finished this chapter (finally) an hour ago. Send help I've scuppered up my sleeping schedule beyond belief! D:**

**Anywho, here it is! Year two! I wanted to make a note that this rendition won't really focus on Jack's actual flights out...I want to focus more on how he acted at the Pole, and what caused his downward spiral to turning the Pole into a scuppering theme park, ya feel? So yeah, lotsa angst and emotion and yay! I loved writing Jack and Jacquie's fight scene omg it was great.**

**So yeah, sorry if there's any mistakes, grammar wise. Please point them out and come more coherent, socially acceptable hours I shall fix those. Also to explain my long absence: November has been busy as fudge assignment wise plus nanowrimo-though you'll be happy to know that Dark Shadows is coming along nice enough :D. Also, I caught a cold this week...not fun. Send me virtual get betters and chicken noodle soups guys!**

**I can't think of much else to say except for enjoy year two, because strike two is far worse than strike one let me tell you, and that I'll try to have Year Three up sooner than Year Four! I look forward to your thoughts and feels in that lil white box ;)**

* * *

><p><strong>DISCLAIMER<strong>

**I do not own _The Santa Clause_, nor do I own Jack Frost, Mother Nature, Bernard, or any other canon characters mentioned above. I am making no profit off of this, it is purely for my enjoyment as well as that of the readers. I do, however, own Jacqueline Frost, as well as her family (Blaise, winter, Fino and Fiera Frost) and their magical hometown of Crystal Springs. Any resemblance they may bear to any specific person/place/thing is purely coincidental; please do not use any of my characters without MY permission. **The Legate concept is also mine; I do not mind anyone using it, so long as credit is given where credit is due.****


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